


your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(i'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet) <br/>Anne and Richard's wedding night. '“Let me do that,” he murmurs, his voice deep and eyes unblinking. She nods her assent, turning her head to the side and dropping her hands from her dress to permit his access.' Speculation for episode 1x06 of 'The White Queen, for mary-bubbly-macdonald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck

His hands are cold on hers, and she shivers without meaning to. It is not fear that overwhelms her, for nothing could be as terrible as the embrace of her last husband. Instead, a worry that Richard shall find her displeasing runs through her, flooding her mind with nerves.

She already is aware that she is not the beauty of the Neville sisters, having been granted her father’s nose and light locks that had a tendency to knot within seconds. In comparison to the beauty of Isabel, made even more prominent with her newfound happiness and babe in her belly, Anne is nothing to the majority of the court. Most consider her a traitor, whispering in corners about how shameful it is that the York brothers have embraced her once more after she betrayed them and married the Lancastrian prince. She desires to scream at them, to proclaim that it was not her choice to marry the prince but instead the will of her father. However, yelling at them will just grant them another thing to whisper about, so she bites her tongue and remembers their names.

Richard does not seem to mind the whispers, and she knows that he has gone against the wishes of his brother by marrying her. The King, her dear cousin Edward, may not mind their marriage, too content with his own family and the desire to maintain his kingly position, but George surely will. Richard is now able to claim half of the extensive Neville estates, a notion George had wished to avoid by denying him access to Anne. She shivers gently at the memory of the treatment George subjected her to, but she cannot blame Izzy for her husband’s misdoings. Their father is gone, their mother lost to them, and Izzy was only safeguarding her position as George’s wife and the duchess of Clarence.

She shrugs off her deep blue cloak, the fabric matching Richard’s doublet. He looks tenderly down at her, his lips curving up into a gentle smile. She flushes red, ducking her head down to avoid his gaze, and begins to loosen the stays of her dress, the fabric soft underneath her fingers. He cups her chin in a chilly palm, titling her gaze up to meet his.

“Let me do that,” he murmurs, his voice deep and eyes unblinking. She nods her assent, turning her head to the side and dropping her hands from her dress to permit his access. His fingers nimbly undo the front of her dress, and she exhales a shaky breath as he tugs the fabric from her body.

She is left standing in her cotton shift, her hair loose and tumbling down her shoulders. Her eyes stare directly at Richard, unblinking. He does not break the exchange of glances whilst undressing;  fingers swiftly unbuttoning his tunic, throwing it and his belt to the floor with a loud noise. The scabbard attached to his sword belt lands somewhere in the corner, but the door has been bolted and there is no possibility of an intruder.

She inhales deeply at the sight of her husband bare-chested in front of her; where Edward’s form had scared her, and his emotionless face had made her fear for her life, Richard’s form brings her nothing but delight and the slight flush on his cheeks makes her step forward to gather him into her arms. He places his head gently on top of hers, her nose resting in the hollow of his throat and his chin in her hair.

 Izzy oft made joking comments about his stature in comparison to the height of Edward and George, and she knows he has his boots specially made in order to add height to his figure. Her husband is somewhat self-conscious about his odd stature, but she finds him to be the perfect height for her. He is not a man who has the ability to look down at her, but rather is her equal, and she finds that comforting.

His arms wrap around her, his skin cool under her fingertips. She inhales a deep breath in order to quell the nerves in her belly, feeling secure in his embrace. She knows Richard would never intentionally harm her, but her previous experience in the marriage bed was less than positive.

Richard loosens his grip of her, taking her hands in his gently. He runs his thumb over her fingers, over the cool metal of her wedding band, and smiles at her.  “Come Anne,” he murmurs, undoing the knot of her shift and the clasp of his hose, “Sweet wife, let us go to bed.”

He is so gentle with her in their marriage bed that she fears she may weep with the happiness of it all. 


End file.
